


Not Ideal

by sunnyhomes



Category: Alien Series, Alien: Isolation (Video Game)
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, but it's always going to be my ship, it's whatever you want it to be at this point, or maybe more idk, so I'll imagine it sailing into the sunset when they get Samuels back together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 09:31:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11460804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnyhomes/pseuds/sunnyhomes
Summary: Amanda couldn't bring herself to leave Christopher as Savastopol falls from orbit. Perhaps she could have gone about his reactivation a better way, but one thing is certain, her friend doesn't mind at all.





	Not Ideal

Amanda is having second thoughts. Her busy hands fumble autonomously with the gadget she's currently disassembling, but her mind is elsewhere. 

Within an afternoon, she'd turned her kitchen into a workstation. Upon it is strewn oodles of wires and cables, a soldering iron breaking six hundred degrees, and parts of a noisemaker she smuggled away from security. 

It had been the longest few days of her life, which was saying a great deal, but now she is banking on a miracle. 

Amanda holds the delicate creation in her hands as she slides her back down the kitchen cupboard, placing it on the linoleum as gently as her shaking hands could. 

Deep breath. _In. 2... 3... 4... and Out. 2... 3... 4..._ Just like she was instructed. 

With an awfully final click, Ripley inserts the charred remains of a memory card into the device, and for possibly the first time in her life, prays. 

“Amanda? Amanda Ripley?” The gadget blinks to life, an accented voice crackles through the makeshift speakers, a sensor rotates in it's socket to rest on her. “What's going on?”

Amanda looks upon him with guilt. Yes, it had worked, but now came the hard part. She had to explain why. 

“Hi, Samuels. I'm so, so sorry.” She truly is, if there had been another surefire way, this would have been avoided at all costs. 

It's not like he isn't installed into somewhat luxury. Her Home Security Drone is top of the range, but she can't deny he does deserve far better than an automated sensor on wheels. Had she any small hydraulic limbs handy, she does imagine he'd be a tad more comfortable. 

Samuels pivots on his wheels. His ambient noise whirring and grating, providing the only sound in the apartment. 

Amanda thinks he looks just about as distressed as she'd ever seen an appliance. 

“What have you done?” Samuels queries. Calibrating himself with a mechanical buzz into some sort of comfort, now that he'd rediscovered movement and sight, and was no longer in _pain_ \- however simulated it might've been. 

“I had to know it was you I brought back with me, before... Well, before I broke the law for nothing.” Ripley smiles reassuringly, hoping his low-tech sensor can pick up on it. “But it sounds like I got you back in one piece.”

Literally. 

“This is not... Ideal.” Samuels voice is definitely him. Coherent and accented, a tad metallic without the acoustic cushioning of faux flesh. 

“It's just temporary, I promise. This weekend I'll take you to the office and find a newborn android to install you into. Your same model is still in production and all. It'll just be an empty vessel, so don't develop a complex about it.”

Samuels pauses and makes a hum of consideration. 

Briefly, Amanda wonders how he can hum without lips, but she supposes his voice was never determined by vocal chords and breath, as much as a sound projector in his throat. This much was probably not too far off what he was used to.

Her friend is still considering the implications of all this new input data, the lack of sensory information in his skin, and the installation of a mechanical motherboard with such simple actions, far below his capacity. Not only that, but trespassing, breaking, entering, and theft, were against basically all of Samuels' primary programming. And further bothered by the intricacies arising from copying his conscience. His soul- if he is to be so bold. 

This plan seems to get far worse the more he reasons it. 

“Are you going to steal a synthetic body? Purely for my comfort, and continuance?” 

“For your _life_ , Chris.” Amanda figures there isn't much a drone could do to stop her, though she would hesitate if he really insisted, they'd find a better option no matter how long it took. “And yes, you can't stay in there forever. Something will go wrong eventually and I can only put you back together so many times.”

“I am willing, but I can't help but ponder. Will it be me? I am installed here, now, as I was installed into my last body. But it had to- die... without my knowing I would ever come back. So will I not just be a copy? This Household Security Drone will have to live on as the most uncomfortable android in the world.” He sounds trustful, granting a little apprehension. "I didn't intend that to come across so ungratefully."

“It's fine.” Amanda shakes her head and takes him up to sit on the bench with her, hoping his depth of perception would be enough to keep him from falling right off the edge. He backs away to sit with the toaster against the wall. 

“Um, not exactly. I can _copy_ your data onto a new drive, but that doesn't mean it's _you_. It will have your programming, like your code and regs, but it wont have your memories or personality. What you are is in here.” Amanda taps the back of his body where his hard drive had been makeshift USB ported into. “If I put this directly into a new synthetic, you'll be with it. It's not a duplicate; it's a brain transplant.” 

Samuels nods his sensor, his vent runs hot as he sifts through the huge amount of new info. 

Amanda makes a note to find him a better heatsink if he's going to be comfortable in this body for the next few days. Shoving the vast entity of “Christopher Samuels” into this matchbox was bound to push it's little CPU to it's limits, and being fried for the second time would definitely be problematic. 

“Amanda?” Samuels swivels upon her suddenly. “What happened on Savastopol? After I deactivated.”

Amanda remembers carving the back of her friend's neck, tearing the chip from the socket atop his carbon-fibre spine. She was rewarded with a unhealthy dose of radiation, a nasty zap, and years of psychological damage, but without question, she'd do it again. 

“You were fried. I had to reset all the breakers to get the door open and dig you out of your last body.” Ripley looks away. “Sorry again. I didn't know if this is what you would have wanted, but I couldn't just leave you behind after all you'd done for me. I had to try, y'know?”

The drone housing her best friend seems to brighten up at this. “No need to apologize, Ripley. As much as I wish you hadn't exposed yourself to the radioactivity and heat in that room, I'm glad to be here with you. And see you well, of course.” 

There's a gentle silence between them, the device is as close to smiling as Amanda supposes she'd ever imagine of black plastic, and she rests her hand lightly on top of what would likely be a shoulder. 

“I'm so glad you're here with me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone in an hour car ride as an alternate way Amanda could have brought Samuels back for 'Walk In The Park'. It was far too cheesy and kind of cute, and I'm glad I kept it separate now. So here it is, somewhat presentable and way too far off canon, but it's how we cope YEET


End file.
